


Guts & Bathwater

by xyChaoticFox



Series: Geralt x Jaskier One shots [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Awkwardness, Bathtubs, First Kiss, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21904678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyChaoticFox/pseuds/xyChaoticFox
Summary: Jaskier wants to assist Geralt with his bath.(Adapted from the scene in Episode 4)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt x Jaskier One shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578793
Comments: 55
Kudos: 1247





	Guts & Bathwater

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, it's just a quick shitty piece cause I lowkey ship them. XD
> 
> As always my native language is not English and this is not beta'd so please excuse any major errors and enjoy ♥️

_x_

With the sun setting, Jaskier had readied a bath with the help of a few lovely inn maidens. Unfortunately they didn't plan to join him so he convinced Geralt to get his dirty self in it instead. The witcher didn't object, silently wishing to rid himself of the guts and blood soaking his hair and body. Just because it came with the job didn't mean he had to like it. 

  
Abruptly Jaskier dumpped a bucket of water over Geralt's head, who instantly voiced his dissatisfaction. He didn't mind the bath but he wasn't keen on the presence that came with it. Or his requests to accompany the bard to a feast later that evening. 

"Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest." The brunette rolled his eyes, "It is one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?"

Geralt scrubbed at his arms as Jaskier moved around the tub, "I'm not your friend." 

"Oh. Oh really." He dried his hands, voice laced with his usual sarcasm. 

"Oh you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom then?" 

The witcher looked up at him with a silent glare, bringing his arms up to rest them on the tub edges. Jaskier briefly allowed his eyes to fall on the bulky appendages, then huffed and tore his gaze away. He wasn't swayed that easily, especially not by someone this ungroomed. 

"Yeah, well, yeah. That's what I thought." He said finally when Geralt remained quiet, still fidgeting with a rag clutched between his hands.

"Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal." He continued, tossing the rag to fiddle with random trinkets on a small cupboard. 

"The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier's triumphant performance! "Jaskier exclaimed, flamboyantly tossing bath salts into the witcher's bathwater.

Geralt still glared up at him, sitting with his back squarely against the tub, "And how many of these lords want to kill you?" 

The bard had the audacity to stand there looking thoughtful, "Hard to say. One stops keeping count after a while." 

Jaskier walked around the tub a second time, Geralt's eyes following his every move. The damn bard really thought himself invincible, Geralt wasn't surprised he dug himself such a deep and shitty hole. 

"Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes," he hung a dirty clothing piece on a peg attached to the wall on Geralt's right side, before turning back to the latter. 

"Ooh, yeah, that face!" He created a picture frame with his thumbs and forefingers teasingly and plopped down on a stool next to the tub with a loud ' _ooh_ ', "Scary face!" 

Geralt clenched his jaw, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in slight irritation. This man really knew how to tick him off without even having to do anything. 

"No lord in his right mind will come close if you're standing next to me with a puss like that." Jaskier grinned proudly. 

Geralt ignored him, reaching for his ale to take a large swig. 

"On second thoughts," Jaskier gingerly plucked the tankard from his hand, "Might want to lay off the Cintran ale." 

Geralt gave a deep groan, lips pulled into a tight line as Jaskier pat his wet shoulder. 

"A clear head would be best." He said as he moved to discard the tankard. 

I will not suffer tonight sober," Geralt clenched his fist," Just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry. "

Jaskier glanced over his shoulder. 

"I'm not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men." 

"Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved," Jaskier folded a grey jacket slopishly, "Except you actually do, all of the time." 

Another glare was thrown in his way, not that it scared the bard, he loved getting under the witcher's skin. It was good to have someone like a friend he could trust for once. And behind that angry demeanour, Geralt was someone to trust. 

"Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crochety and cantankerous?" Jaskier leaned against the small cupboard in front of Geralt, "Actually, I've always wanted to know, do witchers ever retire?" 

Geralt dropped his arms to wet them again, "Yeah. When they slow and get killed." 

"Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this... Monster hunting nonsense is over with." Jaskier pushed on, his hands waving in the air.

"I want nothing." 

For a moment it looked like Jaskier was disappointed but he quickly hid it under his cheery mask. Few things could escape a Witcher's penetrative gaze though. 

"Well, who knows. Maybe someone out there will want you." He dropped in front of the tub with a childish pout, green eyes settled on Geralt's. 

"I need no one," The witcher looked at the ripples of his bathwater, "And the last thing I want is someone needing me." 

He emphasised the last part, golden eyes snapping up to Jaskier.

Jaskier was toying with his clasped hands, leaning over the tub edge on his forearms. He shook his head with a scoff, "And yet. Here we are." 

Those words weren't meant to sound as honest and raw as they did but Jaskier held his ground. Geralt gave a short grunt of acknowledgement, burning to look away. Sudden realisation that his clothes were missing gave him the gap he wanted. 

His head whirled around, "Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?" 

The bard gave him a sheepish look, "Ah, well, uh, they were sort of covered in Selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway, you're not going tonight as a witcher so don't worry about it."

"Jaskier. "

"Let's get you cleaned up first. "

"I can damn well wash myself. "

"You've been doing a great job so far. Your hair is still a goddamn mess." Jaskier rolled his eyes. 

"If you stop yapping I might get a fucking chance to actually wash." 

"Sorry for keeping you company," Jaskier rolled his eyes, "But really, I can't have my bodyguard look like a dirty troll." 

Geralt ignored him, taking a cloth and rubbing it with an odd smelling chipped bar of soap. He absentmindedly wondered if it belonged to the bard, not that it meant anything if it did. He continued his scrubbing, lathering as much of him as he could reach hurriedly and then tossing the water over him. His face ached as he struggled to clean it, some of the slime sticking to him like shit stuck on wool. 

Geralt was so focused on his task he barely felt the hands on him until they slipped firmly into his hair, something cold coating them. He tensed, breath spilling over the back of his ear as the other leaned in close, fingers threading through Geralt's knotted hair. He flinched as slender fingers pressed against the base of his head, hand shooting up to grab Jaskier by the shirt and yanking it. Jaskier yelped, grabbing the tub edges as Geralt flipped him and all but pulled him into the bath. 

"The fuck are you doing?" 

"Uh, w-washing your hair?" The bard stammered helplessly. 

"I can do it myself." Geralt gritted out. 

"Y-yeah, okay. Sorry." He swallowed the lump in his throat, fingers tightening around the edges as he hung awkwardly above the water. 

He could feel his back getting wet as the water slowly seeped through his shirt. His eyes darted to Geralt's, slightly unsettled when he found them boring into his. Geralt's gaze was burning holes into him, his fingers tightening their grip on Jaskier's shirt until you could hear the fabric start to rip. 

"Geralt? I... Don't own many shirts, you know." 

Geralt dropped him like a hot coal, yanking his hand back as the bard splashed unceremoniously into the water. Jaskier choked and spluttered out water, pulling himself up as best he could without his feet kicking Geralt. Geralt pushed them aside, his knees knocking against Jaskier's in his effort to separate them. The bard looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open in silent question. His heartbeat had picked up and started to pound against his ribcage. Jaskier prayed Geralt didn't hear it. 

"You can calm down." Geralt barked. 

_Luck wasn't on his side that night._

"Calm down? You almost gave me a heart attack." His cheeks flared up for some reason and he looked away. 

"Stop blushing. I was just deciding whether to kill you or not, don't make this awkward." 

"That's reassuring. Thanks alot, you arse." Jaskier snapped abruptly.

He scoffed as he tried to pull himself up, doing his best to avoid touching Geralt at all. This was just a little out of his comfort zone and he wasn't willing to admit anything even though he was the one who started it in the first place. 

"If you have something to say, say it." Geralt said.

"It's fine." 

Fingers wrapped around Jaskier's wrist in an iron like grip, " _Say. It_." 

Jaskier shivered against his will, a cold thrill running down his spine. The fingers around his wrist twitched against the skin, Geralt's thumb pressing into the pressure point below his palm. Jaskier shook his head, avoiding Geralt's eyes as he tugged his arm back. The witcher pulled it with more force than he intended, pulling Jaskier into his lap with a pained groan. 

"Watch your bloody knees!" 

"I can't fucking see!" 

Their foreheads knocked loudly and Jaskier got a jab in the nose making him swear colourfully. Geralt wanted to punch him and after several silent moments of intense glaring and pent up tension, the air around them split and Geralt breathed out loudly, cursing those doey green eyes. 

" _Fuck_." 

He closed the gap between them, roughly smashing their mouths together. 

  
_Geralt was going to kill Jaskier if he ever wrote a song about this._

_x_

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to shout at me below ~
> 
> Suggestions and requests are welcome ♥️


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